


We'll Be Okay

by JLMonroe1234



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Contains Spoilers From The Mentalist Finale/Season 7, F/M, I didn't choose a baby name because I couldn't decide on one, Patrick Jane Needs a Hug, Patrick Jane Whump, Teresa Lisbon also needs a hug, kind of?, they're sad people I guess idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:42:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25217944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JLMonroe1234/pseuds/JLMonroe1234
Summary: He’d walked over to Teresa’s sister-in-law of his own volition and asked to hold her baby, complemented the child’s beautiful eyes. Teresa didn’t think her heart could swell any larger, watching him spin and laugh and gently pinch the baby’s cheeks.She might actually want that someday. A family. With Jane.So even though the pregnancy scared her, frightened her beyond belief, really, she was excited. Ready for a new chapter. Excited to see Patrick be a father instead of imagining a blonde little girl with Jane’s smile that wouldn’t live past the age of five._____________A short collection of experiences occurring before, during, and after the Jane/Lisbon pregnancy, what it means for Teresa to become a parent, and what it means for Patrick to have another child after the death of his first. Told mostly from Teresa's point of view.
Relationships: Angela Ruskin/Patrick Jane (mentioned), Charlotte Anne Jane & Patrick Jane, Kimball Cho & Patrick Jane, Kimball Cho & Wayne Rigsby, Patrick Jane & Grace Van Pelt, Patrick Jane & Teresa Lisbon, Patrick Jane/Teresa Lisbon, Wayne Rigsby & Grace Van Pelt, Wayne Rigsby/Grace Van Pelt
Comments: 19
Kudos: 114





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fandom I don't expect a lot of people to be involved in, so this is basically to fill the holes in my own soul, because the ending of this show did NOT give me enough information.

Teresa Lisbon spent days trying to convince herself that the fluttering in her stomach was just nerves. Not little, plump, quickly developing baby feet. 

She was only six weeks along. There was no way the baby was kicking. It probably didn’t even have well defined legs, yet. After all, it was just beginning to take on the shape of what would, in a few months time, be a living, breathing human child. 

The thought of it made Teresa’s head spin. 

She hadn’t even known she was pregnant until her primary care doctor called to discuss her yearly blood work results.  _ “Your glucose and cholesterol levels look great. Oh, and it looks like you’re pregnant. Congrats! I’d recommend making an appointment with your OB-GYN.”  _

Teresa didn’t believe the doctor at first. She kept asking if she was sure, if the lab made a mistake or it was a false positive or they switched her labs with someone else’s. Her doctor, bless her soul, very patiently explained to her that false positives are extremely rare, and that the lab results were indeed hers. She was going to be a mother. 

It was a stream of thought she thought she wouldn’t have for a long time, if ever. Lisbon accepted long ago that the demands of her work would always come first, that unless she found someone who understood the lifestyle and the risks it posed, settling down and starting a family would be near impossible. Babies needed moms who home-cooked dinner in the evening, who didn’t strap on bullet proof vests when they went on business trips. They didn’t need someone like Teresa- busy, tired, and emotionally unavailable. 

But then she met Patric Jane. She spent the first few years of their partnership pitying him and his tragic backstory. Murdered wife, murdered daughter. Life in shambles. Obsessed with tracking down and obliterating the man who ripped his family apart. Jane was just a walking tornado, beautiful in his complexity and grace, but too powerful for his own good. His brains mixed with his complete lack of impulse control made for a brilliantly terribly display every time they went on a mission.

That behavior threw her off for a while. For a short time, a horrible little part of her understood why Jane’s family had met the fate they had. She even blamed him for their deaths, when the case first came through CBI. She felt like his own carelessness and brash personality lined him up for that sort of tragedy. 

Then she watched him grieve. Watched him not sleep for days and drink more tea than the average man and waste away looking for Red John. She watched his heart break when kids were involved in cases, watched his eyes light up when a baby giggled or a toddler asked him to play. He was all too happy to oblige, his love of children and residual grief over his daughter slipping through the cracks each time. 

Patrick Jane was a good man. A good man who made mistakes, sure, but a good man nonetheless. He didn’t deserve what came to him. His wife and child didn’t deserve to die, not like that. 

And as time went on and Patrick continued working with the CBI, Lisbon saw the charm in his seemingly cold demeanor. He was determined, dedicated. His frequent naps on the bullpen’s worn leather couch were no longer inconvenient, but endearing. His three-piece suits were a part of his charm. His clever schemes to catch murderers were tiresome, yes, and frustrating, but ultimately successful. 

It took Teresa a while to realize it, but she’d fallen hard. She didn’t know it for sure until she took Jane to that family barbecue in Chicago. He’d shown up confident and lighthearted as ever in his slacks and dress shoes, shirt sleeves rolled up the way she liked. He managed to not seem at all out of place, a man in showman’s attire surrounded by jeans and football jerseys. 

He’d walked over to Teresa’s sister-in-law of his own volition and asked to hold her baby, complemented the child’s beautiful eyes. Teresa didn’t think her heart could swell any larger, watching him spin and laugh and gently pinch the baby’s cheeks. 

She might actually want that someday. A family. With Jane.

So even though the pregnancy scared her, frightened her beyond belief, really, she was excited. Ready for a new chapter. Excited to  _ see  _ Patrick be a father instead of imagining a blonde little girl with Jane’s smile that wouldn’t live past the age of five. 

She knew she’d have to tell him soon. At the wedding, maybe. Afterward. She’d make it a full day of festivities and surprises. She almost backed out when she found out Keller was planning to sabotage the wedding and kill Jane, but in the end it just made her realize she needed to tell him the news sooner rather than later. Life was much too short. There was no time to waste. 


	2. I Love You, I Love You, I Love You.

Teresa’s pregnancy was absolutely nothing like Angela’s, and it was throwing him off.

As soon as Teresa told Patrick the news, had laid her hand on her stomach in a way only a mother would, Patrick Jane knew he was ready. Ready to be a father again. To have that life with Teresa. To start a family with her. It was going to be the beginning of the rest of their lives and he couldn’t have been more excited. 

But even though he was going to be a dad for the second time, even though he’d watched Angela’s pregnancy and knew some of the basics, he had a hard time reminding himself that this _wasn’t_ Angela. Teresa was her own person with her own strengths, weaknesses, and concerns. This pregnancy, this baby, wouldn’t be the same. Patrick was in uneasy but familiar waters. Teresa was thrown into the abyss head-first. He had to be patient with her. Let her figure things out for herself. 

The hard part for him was finding a balance between being a helpful husband and being a know-it-all second time father. Teresa was nauseous? He could give her peppermint tea and a quiet place to nap it off. She was worried about finding a pediatrician? He could make a list of the best ones in the area and see who was taking patients. But when she talked about the type of parenting she wanted to implement, the way she’d always imagined raising a child, Patrick had to hold his tongue. What worked for him and Angela, and specifically Charlotte, would not work for everyone. Wouldn’t be favored by everyone. 

Not to mention the fact that whoever this child turned out to be, however they looked or talked or acted, they weren’t Charlotte. They’d never be Charlotte. They didn’t deserve to live the exact life she would have, had she lived. No child deserved to have a shadow like that following them around. They deserved a childhood all their own. 

But Patrick didn’t have time to think it over too much, because Teresa was currently four months along and was surprising him more and more every day. She wasn’t nauseous anymore, hadn’t been since month three, but suddenly couldn’t stand the scent of Oolong tea. Patrick had stopped keeping it in the house and now bought his morning pick-me-up on the way to the hardware store. He often made daily trips there, going back and forth to find whatever supplies he’d need for the cabin renovation. Him and Lisbon had been living in her house for the time being; he certainly wasn’t going to subject her to pregnant life in the Airstream camper he often drove. But he’d made significant progress on the lake home in the time since he left the FBI. 

It had been transformed from a shack to something that resembled a home. The first major improvement to the structure was a rebuilt porch; if a very pregnant Teresa wanted to come check in on the progress or enjoy the scenery, the stairs couldn’t be crooked and the floorboards needed to be replaced and the safety rails needed to be strengthened- 

That’s what life was now, with Teresa being pregnant. Patrick had been cautious with her before, doing his absolute best to never let harm come to her over the years, but her carrying his child was a completely different story. Something bad happening to her went from being unbearable to unimaginable. A tragedy so heinous that _surely_ whatever god or being or force above controlled Patrick’s fate, they wouldn’t have the nerve to be so cruel. 

And that’s what was different. That world-shattering, never-ending, cosmic love. Patrick had loved Angela. More than anything. And he’d loved Charlotte just as much, if not more. But Teresa had been with him in the aftermath of the Jane Family destruction; she saw him for who he was, broken parts and all. She stuck around, even at his lowest points. He drove her crazy, fooled her, tricked her, got her in trouble. And she _stuck around_. He killed a man, killed the man that took his family from him, and Teresa still loved him. 

So he’d do the same for her. And for their child. Love them endlessly with no restrictions, no drawn lines. Never let them believe that they weren’t supported or heard or protected. 

For Teresa, for their unborn baby, it was the least he could do. 

* * *

“Baby looks wonderful. Head circumference is where it should be and I don’t see any physical anomalies to be concerned about.” Dr.Wagner shifted the ultrasound wand just a little, dragging it through the cold gel on Teresa’s abdomen. “Would you guys like to know the sex? Or did you want to be surprised?” 

“We can know that now?”

Teresa was currently seeing her OB-GYN for her 20 week checkup, and Patrick had decided to come along. He always came along, had yet to miss an appointment, but always liked to make it seem like he was coming for the fun of the event rather than the fact that he was the baby’s father. It was frustrating and endearing all at once. 

“Yep, it’s about that time. If you want I can step outside and you guys can discuss what you want to do.” 

Teresa looked over to Jane, who was sitting on the edge of the only plastic guest seat in the room. He only shrugged. “You’re the one carrying the child. It’s not really up to me, is it?” 

Teresa leaned over the exam table and aimed a gentle slap at his shoulder. She fell short and ended up hitting his knee instead. “Why are you always so unhelpful? Seriously, Jane. What do you think?” 

She watched him avert his eyes, really process the question. He used the thumb of his left hand to fiddle with his wedding band. It was a habit he’d had since he started at CBI, a sure sign that he was actually taking time to consider his words. Though, he'd been wearing a different wedding band back then.

He cleared his throat gently and readjusted himself in his seat. He was attempting to look leaned back and casual, but Teresa could tell he wanted to express his opinion without upsetting her if she didn’t feel the same way. “I, personally, would not be opposed to finding out the sex now. It would give us time to properly decorate the nursery. I’m a sucker for an aesthetically pleasing nursery.” 

Teresa had been around Jane long enough to pick up on some of his tricks. His body language was not totally that of a composed man. He was good at hiding his unease; there was no crease between his brows, no tension in his shoulders. But the way he was blinking slower than usual and spinning his ring made her believe that finding out the sex of the baby was more useful to him than being able to prepare a color-appropriate nursery. 

It was a chance for him to get his emotions in line before the baby arrived. Because, even though he would never admit it, he’d have a much more difficult experience if it was a girl. It would dredge up a lot of unpleasant memories he’d likely spent years trying to bury. 

Teresa appreciated the thrill of waiting to find out the sex, but her own impatience was getting the best of her. “I think we’d like to know now.” 

Patrick squeezed her hand and smiled. 

“Alright then, let’s do this.” Dr.Wagner adjusted the ultrasound wand again. Even though it only took seconds for her to find what she was looking for, Teresa felt like she’d been drowning in suspense for hours. Wagner clicked a button on the machine and the image on the screen stilled. 

“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs.Jane. You’re having a baby girl.” 

Before Teresa had time to react Patrick was out of his seat and kissing her sweetly, lips pulled taught with the force of his smile. “ _I love you,”_ he whispered quietly against her lips, “ _I love you, I love you, I love you.”_

She pushed him away and back into his seat with a hand on his chest, feigning annoyance. “I know, I know.” She couldn’t stop the childish giggle that escaped after, though. _It was a girl. She was having a baby girl._ They _were having a baby girl._ It was all suddenly becoming so _real._ This child inside her wasn’t just a nameless, faceless thing anymore. It was a _girl._ They had a _daughter._


	3. Psychoanalyzing the Nurse

“I’m so sorry about the divorce, Megan, I can’t imagine how tough that must be for you.”

The nurse taking Teresa’s blood pressure looked up from the quickly inflating cuff on her arm to eye Patrick, who was sitting casually in the room’s spare recliner.

“Excuse me?”

Teresa rolled her eyes, but said nothing as she continued flipping through the hospital cafeteria’s menu. She was hungry, desperately so, but the doctor told her she couldn’t eat anything else until she’d delivered the baby. They’d given her the induction medicine hours ago and last time they checked, she was still only three centimeters dilated. She wouldn’t be getting her biscuits and gravy for a long while.

Patrick cleared his throat and sat forward in the chair. Despite the late hour he hadn’t changed out of his slacks and dress shirt, but had ditched the usual jacket and vest earlier in the evening. When Teresa asked why he hadn’t worn something more comfortable, he simply shrugged and laced up his leather dress shoes. “ _ I’m about to witness the birth of my daughter. I intend to make a good first impression.”  _

“You and your wife are separating, correct?”

Megan blinked a few times. “Y-Yes, but how did you-”

“He just does,” Teresa said lazily. “I wouldn’t question it.”

“Regardless, I hope everything settles down for you soon. Remember to go easy on yourself, though. Thinking it’s all your fault is will just stress you out. You’ve already got a tough enough job. Labor and Delivery Nurse? I could never. You’re one of the strong ones. You’ll get through this, I'm sure of it."  


The nurse still looked bewildered as she mindlessly entered Teresa’s blood pressure data and body temp into the computer system. But just like most people did, Megan took the time to work through her confusion and then became visibly impressed and accepting of Patrick’s information. “You’re right. It’s not all on me, is it? She’s just as much to blame.”

“Exactly. Great job, Megan. Now go get yourself a cold soda from the nurse’s station mini fridge and take a breather.”

Megan double checked Teresa’s IV, made sure the pulse reader clipped to her finger was secure, and wiped invisible dust from her hands. “I think I’ll do that. Thanks, Mr.Jane. Let me know if you need anything, Mrs.Jane.”

And with that Megan was gone, leaving Teresa and her husband alone in the hospital room. “Really, Jane? Now? I’m about to give birth to your child and you’re psychoanalyzing the nurse?”

“She was visibly distressed, Teresa. Problems at home can affect work performance. I wasn’t going to allow her to compromise the safety of you or our daughter because her unfaithful spouse is sleeping with their personal trainer.”

“Oh yikes, really?”

“Yes. Terrible, really. Quite cliche.”

“Very cliche."

“Megan feels betrayed because her wife swore up and down that nothing was going on with Svetlana, but then she caught the two of them in the home gym-”

“There’s no way you know that for sure.”

“Really, my lovely wife, I figured you would have faith in my methods by now.”

“90% of what you do is educated guessing.”

“ _ Very  _ educated guessing. And I’m usually right.”

“And sometimes you’re not.”

Something cramped painfully in Teresa’s lower abdomen and she closed her eyes, slowly inhaling and exhaling through the pain. “I think you need to go get Megan.”

”Alright, fine, if that’s what it will take for you to believe me, but I’m telling you, the wife cheated-”

“ _ Patrick!” _

Jane finally looked toward the bed and assessed the severity of the situation, saw the pain written across Teresa’s face and the way her knuckles were white around the bed railings. “Oh! Right! You’re having a child. Silly me.” He quickly stood and cracked the door, peeking his head into the hall. The nurse’s station was only a few steps from the doorway. “Megan? Yea, we need you, dear. Things are progressing.”


	4. Never Letting Go

Teresa woke up in her hospital room, lights dimmed and an empty bassinet next to the bed. For a moment her heart fluttered with panic, the heart monitor she was still hooked up to beeping rapidly for several seconds- until she saw Patrick in the recliner. He must have rolled it closer to the bed while she was out. The seat was almost completely leaned back. Patrick had, at some point, slipped his shoes off and they were now laying neatly next to one another on the floor. The sleeves of his shirt had been rolled up. His hair was a fluffy, floppy mess, a sure sign that he’d been running his fingers through it. He’d likely fallen asleep not too long ago, had probably been awake and nervous for most of her surgery. That just how Patrick was; him and insomnia were intimately familiar with one another. If something was on his mind, sleep was out of the question. 

Teresa had been rushed out of the room directly after the birth. She’d only had a few moments to hold her daughter before the doctor realized she was losing too much blood, something had torn internally, and she was sent to an OR to get some sutures to stop the bleeding. It was nothing serious, really, but they’d had to leave the baby with Patrick during the procedure. 

Teresa couldn’t imagine anyone else she’d rather watch over their child. 

She gently pushed herself into a sitting position to have a better view of her husband, who was still sound asleep with a small pink bundle resting atop his chest. His arms were firmly wrapped around the baby, just enough to offer security and safety, but not enough to create any sort of discomfort for her. She was sleeping too, luckily. If the way she was wailing when the nurse handed her off to Patrick was any indication of the next few years, Teresa was in no rush to wake her up. 

Teresa could already tell that her daughter had her nose, a little longer and thinner than Jane’s. But she had her father’s eyes, for sure, heavily lidded and tilted downward on the outer edges. Teresa hadn’t gotten a good chance to see the baby with her eyes fully open, but from what she could recall, there had been skies beneath her tiny lids. Not grey like her own, but brilliant blue, just like her dad’s. 

The father of Teresa’s child was  _ Jane. Patrick Jane.  _ If anyone had told her this is where she’d end up, married to the man who used to, and sometimes still, drove her crazy, she would have laughed. But now, seeing him exhausted and worn down but holding onto their daughter like he couldn’t fathom ever letting go, even in sleep, she couldn’t imagine herself anywhere else. 


	5. We'll Be Okay

The baby’s first Halloween started out a quiet affair. She was barely over a month old, too young to really be dressed up and paraded around the neighborhood, so Teresa opted to leave a bucket full of candy on the porch with a “one piece only” sign that she knew no one would obey. She had Patrick grab her some books from the library and chose to start the first one that evening. Luckily the baby was in a particularly nappy mood that day and had decided to take an evening snooze, allowing Teresa some time to dig into the first few chapters. 

Jane, not being a fan of Halloween himself (he claimed that it was only fun when your kid was old enough to wear a costume and “ _ look absolutely adorable while bleeding everyone’s candy buckets dry”),  _ decided to head out to the lake and work on the cabin. That had more or less been his day job since before the baby was born; heading to the cabin early and coming home in time to take over baby duty and allow Teresa some time for a nap, a walk, whatever she needed to do to stop going stir crazy. She appreciated the time maternity leave gave her to be with her daughter, but the inactivity was killing her. 

The cabin was close to done. It was already done, in Teresa’s opinion; she deemed it livable as soon as it had plumbing, electric, and central heating and air conditioning. But Patrick was determined to make it the perfect home for their little family. He was adding on a new room for the nursery, knocking down walls, putting up new ones. Hanging drywall. Choosing the perfect shade of “ _ Whatever color you want, Teresa _ ,” for the living room and comparing backsplash tile types for the kitchen. The hands-on, nitty gritty side of Jane was one Teresa had never known existed, but if her trips to the cabin before the baby’s arrival told her anything, he was doing a great job. The ramshackle structure was really starting to resemble a home, and he was making tremendous progress for having done it all himself so far. Though, once she was off maternity leave and Patrick would be home with the baby, he’d probably have to hire help if he wanted to get the thing remodeled before his hair went grey. 

Teresa was just excited to get out of the suburbs. As much as she liked being near the action of the city, she could appreciate the peace and tranquility the lakeside cabin could bring. Not to mention the fact that the rambunctious toddlers across the street would no longer be ringing the doorbell several times a day for no reason and waking the baby. And there would be no rowdy teenagers living down the street that liked playing their music just a  _ bit  _ too loud. 

Teresa had gotten a text from one of the friendlier people in the neighborhood, a girl named Melanie with a baby boy about Teresa’s baby’s age, saying that the teens had already been seen spray painting stop signs and had even tagged a few houses and cars. Nobody had actually caught them yet or even called the cops. Teresa’s car was in the closed garage, so she wasn’t too worried about it being vandalized, but Melanie suggested that she check the front of the house to make sure everything was in order. Teresa hadn’t had a chance, though, because the baby had been napping  _ so well  _ in her lap and she couldn’t bear to risk waking her by standing. 

Teresa was about a quarter of the way through her novel when, sometime after dark, the front door was thrown open so forcefully that it bounced against the foyer wall. The baby awoke immediately and started screaming bloody murder, but Teresa was almost able to ignore it when she saw the look of absolute terror on Patrick’s face as he stumbled his way into the room.

“Teresa?  _ Teresa! _ ” He was calling her name before he’d even had a chance to survey the room. She quickly maneuvered the baby out of her lap and cradled her in an arm, slowly approaching Patrick and trying not to spook him. 

“Hey, Jane, it’s okay! Hey, calm down. What is this? What’s wrong?”

Patrick’s eyes slowly began to clear. They darted from the still-moving rocking chair Teresa had stood from, to the dimly lit lamp in the corner of the room, back to Teresa. To the baby in her arms, already dressed in a bedtime onesie with a little white stocking cap covering her head of peach fuzz hair. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I just saw it and couldn’t-”

“Saw  _ it _ ? Saw what?”

He took a few more deep breaths. Closed his eyes for a moment. Then he motioned for Teresa to hand him the still whining baby and she passed her into his arms. She calmed almost immediately like she always did when Jane rocked her. It was a talent Patrick had that Teresa had grown to envy over the last few weeks. 

He inclined his head toward the still open front door, and Teresa followed him down the porch and to the driveway. He’d left his car running and the driver’s side door open in his panic, headlights glowing and illuminating the distinct shape of  _ it  _ on the garage door.

Sprayed onto their garage door, about four feet in diameter, was a huge, distinct, dark red smiley face. 

“Oh, Patrick…”

In the darkness of the night, the paint was just shadowed enough to be comparable to dried blood. Just a little drippy in the right spots and not perfectly connecting at the top of the circle. Coincidentally, almost identical to how Red John used to draw his smiley faces. 

“I saw it and I just thought that maybe he was back, somehow, maybe I’d gotten the wrong guy, or maybe he still has followers and someone wanted revenge, or-”

Teresa had her arms wrapped around Patrick and the baby in an instant. He would never admit it and she would never point it out, but there were tears running down his cheeks and onto the shoulder of Teresa’s shirt. “Melanie Castillo texted me earlier, said those kids down the street were tagging houses. Some sort of stupid Halloween prank. I’m sorry, I should have warned you.” It was the worst of coincidences; of all the things they could have drawn, they chose the one that would send Patrick spiraling.   


“It’s not your fault, you couldn’t have known. I just...lost myself, for a moment. That’s all.”

“And you thought you lost us, too.”

He smiled, but there was no mirth in it. It was one formed out of residual fear and emotional confusion. “Yes. I did.”

“You didn’t. You won’t. Red John is gone, Patrick. You made sure of that.” Teresa placed a kiss on the corner of his mouth, careful not to jostle the dozing baby in his arms. “We’re okay. We’re gonna be okay.”

Patrick pulled her to his side and they both looked down at their daughter, sleeping soundly without a care in the world. She had no idea what her parents had gone through to get where they were, to get together and have her. And Teresa knew in her heart that they’d never let her feel how either of them had. Alone, afraid, unhappy, grief-stricken. 

They wouldn’t. Not if they could help it. 

Patrick placed a kiss on the crown of Teresa’s head, pulled the keys out of the car ignition, shut the door, and grabbed Teresa’s hand to lead them back inside. “Yes. Yes, we will. We’ll be okay.”


End file.
